Chapter Text
The moment they touched the tarmac back at the 141 base, Price got a call from Laswell. The team had barely started to unpack the helo when he called Ale down into his office. The Intel they sent ahead of them revealed locations of other trafficking rings associated with the one they took down, and Laswell suspected they were going to up their guard once news broke out about it. She wanted him to go, observe, and collect whatever information he could on a few locations, calling in a few favors from her team to track others outside the continent. Solo reconnaissance, one of his least favorite assignments but one of his specialties. Ale sighed a little, wanting to at least have a hot meal before getting shipped out again. “When do you want me to leave?”
”Wheels up tomorrow at 0200 hours. You’ll have the rest of today to clean up and prepare, get a meal in ‘cause this may take a while. Can I ensure you'll be ready?” Ale looked to Price, an apology in his expression and he mouthed. ’Your call.’ Though Ale didn't need a second to think, putting the phone back to his ear. “Yes, ma’am.”
”Good. I'll send Price the details and who your pilot will be for this assignment. Good luck, Corporal.” He managed to squeeze in a ‘thank you’ before Laswell hung up, the tension hanging in the silence after Ale handed Price the phone. He looked at his captain but didn't meet his eyes before Price sighed out the weight in his shoulders. “Sorry to put this on you right away, lad.”
”Nein. No need, sir. I know vhat I signed up for coming to zhe task force.” Ale’s accent thick from his nap, the exhaustion had hit him on the flight back. Ale fell asleep once they stabilized in the air, sitting next to Soap again across from Price. John watched him get jostled by turbulence, only for Soap to pull him to rest on his shoulder the second he leaned too far away. Ale had stashed his helmet and sniper hood away for the ride home, and the rest of the team took full advantage of looking at the view. Even he admitted that the salt and pepper was odd for someone Ale’s age but it fitted given what Price had read from his files. “Well, it's appreciated nonetheless. Now, let's get that meal. Think Mr. Caleb had Italian on the menu for lunch.”
They walked up to the landing pad to assist in the last of the unpacking, the boys giving Price a look while Ale kept his head down. Digging out and beating the dust off his ghillie suit once they were finished and dismissed to disarm and hit the showers. The kitchen being informed to hold off closing for them but to at the least boot out the trainees so they could eat in relative peace. Ale disappeared again before the team reached the armory, even with Price at the mercy of their questioning, he wouldn't relent where Ale went until the Corporal popped out from Rocket’s office with the man in tow. Showered and in fatigues, but still wearing a face mask instead of a balaclava, much to the surprise of the kitchen staff.
”Auch! You're grayer than my own mother Corporal! Grayer than the Captain!” Caleb and Mahir both ribbed on him before handing off his boxed lunch, getting a tired thanks and a shake of his shoulders. Ale dipped out of the chow hall holding up a little peace sign as he walked out, unaware of the impromptu interrogation of his captain by the sergeants and Royce. Rocket caught in the crossfire but staying to be nosy and relay out the news to his fellows in case someone asks where the FNG disappeared to. The actual number of soldiers in 141 is smaller than most but there’s still a few lads that haven’t seen or spoken to their newest addition to the task force. Everyone wanted to meet the kid with the balls to headbutt Ghost during his evaluations. “Where ya shippin’ ‘im off to? Laswell doesn’t call sooner after a mission unless it’s urgent.”
”She wants him on recon, intel gave more than what they expected and Ale agreed to do the work, within the continent for the moment. He leaves tomorrow at 0200 hours.”
”Fer how long?” Everyone at the table stops when Price doesn’t answer right away, taking his time wiping the invisible tomato sauce from his whiskers. The tension in the air could drown a man yet Price looked firmly at the men around him, he’s their captain of course. “Laswell should have the full brief ready at 1700. If she deems it so, she’ll probably have you or Archer to cover more ground.”
”Barely get ta finish a job with him and ya’ll’re sendin’ him off to the wolves again…” Royce shovels a meatball into his mouth, further mushing his southern twang as the others clamored in agreement. Too soon, the whole team hasn’t even met the kid yet, sent out on their assignments soon after his arrival. Chemo and Rook wanted to meet the Corporal with balls of tungsten that busted Ghost’s nose and fixed up Price’s old jeep. Gaz wanted to ask about expanding some of his French, since the devilish green language bird had been haunting him for breaking his 15 day streak when Ale arrived and he wasn’t about to be bullied by pixels on a screen. Soap felt like he finally got a crack at talking to the kid, and now has to wait to see if this string of recon duty will alter the poor bastard’s brain chemistry with boredom or terror. Ale’s made of tougher stuff though, Soap reckoned, he’ll just get bored or draw in his sketchbook like he was on the plane, which John was definitely not watching a shadow person be shaped onto the paper by steady hands despite the turbulence, then caught glimpses of Ale's other work as he leafed through the front pages before shutting it for the rest of the flight.
”I told him to make any calls he needed to make before getting some rest, so leave him be for tonight.”
~~
Simon clicked his pen methodically, finished with the paperwork for now. Price messaged him after they landed, about Laswell sending their FNG on a long string of solo recon assignments. He can imagine the bitching from the sergeants and everyone who’s been out on assignment since Ale’s arrival. Wanting to meet and get a read on the fresh blood in the water. He heard the light tapping of Ale rushing up the stairs and the crinkle of his food bag before more silence, Simon could appreciate the effort of not slamming doors like the lads downstairs. He wasn’t there to witness Meat ripping his and Ozone’s dorm door off by ‘accident’ but Roach provided him plenty of shaky videos of everyone laughing as Meat and Soap tried and failed to reattach the door, Soap dropping the door on his foot, and Meat putting a hole into the door with a hammer. They were elite soldiers, but still men, idiots even, but his team and Price’s pride as much as he goes gray from their antics. He stood to drop off the files for Price, being quiet as he left his room only to pause as he heard muffled talking on the other side of Ale’s door. Damn thin walls. He moved to keep walking until he heard Ale laugh, the hyena-like giggle hard to misplace.
”Mal ehrlich, was hat er sich dabei gedacht? Άγιε σκατά, JJ.” Another voice spoke, more German with another language Simon didn’t recognize. His file mentioned he had dual citizenship in Greece but Simon had never heard the language or spoken to someone from the country. The two switched back and forth between the two languages, until he heard a long sigh from Ale. The first piece of English said the rapid trade of him and the women on, what Simon figured was, the video call.
”I’m getting sent out again, early. 0200 hours early, for I don't know how long. Are the kids home from school yet? I wanted to see them before I try to get some sleep.” This was turning into a conversation that Simon didn’t need to be listening to, but his feet remained planted where he stood, hearing a digitized voice call over in German then a clamor of little voices filled the air, all trying to talk to Ale as he and the woman tried to settle them. “Ach. Beruhigt euch, ihr kleinen Gremlins!”
”Onkel Santer, we miss you! When will you be back to visit?” Simon began to walk away before he could hear anymore of the private conversation he had been eavesdropping on, a pit in his stomach twisting in a way that made his head throb. He hadn’t called Tommy or his mother since Christmas, that had been to give them another excuse of his work getting in the way of him coming home for the holidays. They were disappointed but understanding, Joseph was playing with Beth when he called so he too smothered the camera when he heard his uncle Si, asking when he would be coming home to play with him. Simon did his best to placate the boy by saying that Santa needed a personal escort to make sure kids in warzones got presents but he knew that that excuse wouldn’t cover his ass forever. Joseph will be turning eight in the fall, and already he’s getting smarter every time Tommy sends him a school photo or a family event that, again, Simon missed out on. He couldn’t place the feeling pulling on his stomach when he heard Ale speak to the kids, deciding to push it to the back burner for now. He needed to work, maybe pull some strings to get Price to let him pick up a few off base runs since his nose was still fucked for another week.
Ale sat cross-legged on his tiny desk chair, pushing a stray meatball around his tray as his oldest nephew, Viktor, stared at him in moody teen angst for not answering his niece’s question, despite Diana and their youngest, Sten, babbling on about their day and what Onkel Santer had missed since his transfer to the task force. Not much but enough for the two to talk and sign over each other while Johanna and Viktor looked back and forth between Ale and themselves. He nodded along with the younger two, aware but avoiding the staring from his sister and nephew. He wanted to enjoy seeing his family while he could, not knowing how long he'll be gone or if he'll make it back to them alive. “Παιδιά! Το βραδινό είναι ετοιμο! Ελάτε να πλυθείτε!”
Ale shrunk down at the sound of his mother’s voice, followed by three stomps on the floor, notifying those in the house that were deaf, namely their oldest brother Stravos and his wife, Catherine. Viktor was born deaf out of one ear due an internal malformation while Diana was born completely deaf, learning to read lips and sign to keep up with the family. Sten is the only one of their siblings that has intact hearing, though prefers signing when around the family. Unless he wants something from Grandma, of course. He darts off screen with Diana shortly after, their excited questions as to what's for dinner. Viktor gives Ale a face before exiting the screen, one that tells him he's not off the hook just yet. Johanna looks off screen then gives her brother a tight smile, Ale realizing what she's doing, about to hang up on her. “Μαμά! Ο Άλεκ είναι στο τηλέφωνο, έλα να πεις ένα γεια!”
”Kotzbrocken.” Ale grumbled out to his sister, glaring a hole in the bottom of her face as she held the tablet in her lap as she wheeled herself over to their mother. He braced himself, leaning on his hand to cover the network of scar tissue on his face. It had been years since it happened, not that he remembers everything, but his mother still blatantly stares at the side of his face and looks absolutely heartbroken. Bringing up her visiting the hospital during both of his extended stays and making sure that Ale's keeping up on his scar care. He knows it's out of love however the constant reminders grate on his patience, wanting to move on from what happened. Five years of recovery, five years of constant fussing and staring, five years of holding back a flood of, admittedly, misplaced anger. Ale feels his blood pressure skyrocket as his mother appears on the screen, smiling but her eyes are searching for injuries and surroundings. Seeing if her son is laid up in another hospital bed, injured or dying. “Hi Μαμά.”
”Aleksanter, σπουργιτάκι μου! You look tired! Your new captain isn't working you to the bone so soon after your transfer, no? That Price seemed like a reasonable man like Davis but I-” Ale sat up, “Its fine, Ma. I'm still adjusting to the routine.” He stopped her worrying in its tracks, not letting her spiral like she had in the past, not wanting her to poke her nose where it's not needed. “I'm getting sent out for some recon, wasn't sure if you were busy with chores or cooking, didn't want to disrupt anything.” His mother scoffed, waving him off. Asking about his meal and if the kitchen staff is giving him a hard time for his accommodations, making a face when he mentioned Caleb being Dutch making Italian food. His answers, as vague as he can manage them without outing that he hadn't met his entire unit, seem to be enough for her to accept. Johanna, the kids, and her all yelling goodbyes and blowing kisses to the screen until Ale hung up. Putting the tablet away before he could catch his reflection on the screen, Ale felt exhausted as he always did after speaking with his family. He loves them, they just wear out his energy when their meetings are condensed into little 10 to 20 minute calls. So much energy on such a small screen…
Ale sopped up the last of the spaghetti sauce with a bread stick before getting up to rinse his container in the bathroom sink to send it back to the kitchen clean. Convincing Caleb to have a reusable container for his meals to reduce waste, even slapping a couple bills into the man’s hand to cover the cost of buying it off base. The fucker of course bought a sparkly purple bento box container meant for children but Ale couldn't be mad at the sharpie marker labeling it as his container and to not throw it away, with a little angry face doodled on the side. Seeing the sparkly filament catching light from its spot on his desk when he laid down to try and sleep before getting shipped out. Packing away a few needed bathroom items and settling down, alarm set and curtains drawn. Ale let out a sigh in hopes of actually sleeping and not just resting his eyes for the next four hours. Unlikely to sleep in an actual bed for the foreseeable future.
~~
The air is clammy and chilly in the late hours of night as Ale slipped out of his room and made his way to the armory. His gear was stored separately from everyone else's per his request so he could suit up without distractions or accidentally revealing something to his teammates that Ale would rather keep to himself. His tattoos and scars didn't bother him much, aside from what went above the neckline but parts of his body are another story, another chapter in his life to work on when his job didn't need him anymore and when he didn't share a roof with his parents.
”Not right now.” Ale muttered to himself, shaking his head as he warmed up and stretched his shoulders with his gear on. Trying to dislodge the bad thoughts from his mind like a dog shaking the water off its fur and clearly, it wasn't working. He made his way up to the Captain's office, lurking outside of view where his shadow would cross the threshold. Ale was running ahead of schedule, his nap didn't last very long and he wasn't sure if Price was still in his office or not. The light off and not a sound reaching Ale’s ears. Everything sat in silence, his own breathing barely audible. Suddenly aware of every creak in the building, wind rustling the fauna outside… the *flick flick* of a lighter. Ale let out a sigh, meandering his way to stand outside the bathroom door he could smell the burning tobacco from his spot in the hallway. The temperature didn't warrant the Captain to smoke inside, the night air was a touch nippy but nothing a long sleeve or a light jumper would take care of.
”Captain.” Price felt a piece of his soul die as he walked out of the bathroom to see Ale, geared up and ready to work, lurking in the dark hallway like Ghost does. “Bloody fu-! You're early, Corporal. Follow me.” He composed himself and walked up to his office with Ale trailing behind him, Laswell’s recorded briefing on his desk so she could go home early at her wife's request. Normally she'd be wide awake for this, but Yvette’s mother had called saying she was on her way to visit. Therefore Kate needed to help clean their apartment and actually sleep in order to deal with her mother-in-law the next morning. Price grimaced at the news, remembering dealing with his own in-laws when he was married…and dealing with them after the divorce was finalized. He understood the stress and wished her luck. He rubbed his eyes as Ale listened to the debrief, tired and wanting to just sleep but the stack of manila folders on his desk still needed to be worked on. The pile never seemed to run dry on him, much to his ire.
”Ready to depart, sir. Is the pilot ready to go?” Ale adjusted his rifle as Price led him up to the landing pad, pilots typically turn to hate Ale for bluntly critiquing how they fly and not giving them an inch of error when it comes to maintenance or supplies. Ale would consider flying himself for all his solo missions but someone needs to guard the aircraft while he's out in the field and idle combat soldiers are quick to become the devil's puppet. Ten years of dealing with rowdy, dumbass pilots in Kortac, including both of his sisters, left him a bit hypercritical of how other pilots fly. He rolled his shoulders as they approached the helicopter, engines firing to life as the blades began to spin. Price saluted him, wishing him luck, Ale saluting back until he could no longer see his captain. Mind ready for the work ahead.
~~
”Fuckin’ hell…” Simon rolled his shoulders, trying to undo the knot in his upper back that persisted after he calmed down from an already poor night's sleep that turned sour. A ten minute run and the aching burn of his intense workout did nothing to ease his mind. He was ready to resign for the night when a low glow from the mess hall caught his attention, Simon huffed, ready to take his ire out on the poor sod that decided to grab a midnight snack. Sneaking into the mess is so simple, Simon could do it blind. Unlatching the left side door, the right side getting used more and developing an unrelenting squeak that no amount of WD-40 would fix, and taking the long way around to avoid the worn, creaky floor boards. Drawing closer to the door of the kitchen, Simon began to hear faint music, not recognizing the artist, but the smell hit the hardest.
Sweet, sugary lemon and tart berries, baked bread. Simon leaned his head into the kitchen to see a sprig of salt and pepper hair swaying to the music, a black face mask drowning in the oversized 141 sweater even though the heat of the oven could be felt from the chow line. Army issued pajama shorts showing off the Spartan helmet and wolf skull on the back of Ale’s legs, and black trainers. Simon took in the image in front of him, melodic melodies fading before another song of the same singer began. A pale yellowed light reflected off the white and gray bed head, short and sticking up like Ale was struck by lightning. Head looking down at the two loaf pans, shoulders drooped in a state of calm that Simon had never seen.
Ale shifted his weight in time with the music, soothing himself as the two raspberry lemon loaves he made cooled down enough to lay the icing down. Quietly humming along as the heat and smell of the baked goods brought up his memories of baking with his mom, chasing his siblings out of the kitchen so as to not eat all the cookie dough or other treats before they are cooled down or decorated. His way of distressing after a mission, especially after a long, do-nothing mission of watching and waiting, being unable to act to stop the things he saw. Normally he'd share with his team, but it was 3 in the morning, he didn't have a cheat sheet of allergies or preferences from the team, and wasn't about to wake someone up to ask. He’ll leave a note with allergens and let the others make that choice for their health.
”Vant a sth-sth-sth.” Ale stopped and cleared his throat. “Vant a piece vhen its ready, sir?” He hadn’t slept in God knows how long, his brain mush and it showed in his speech. Ale quietly watched Ghost slink into the kitchen, clearly fresh the gym and the showers, and began to dig through the cupboards. “I’m making tea.”
It was more of a statement than an offer, but Ale simply finished icing the two loaves once he shimmied both out of their tins. Placing two slices onto their designated plates and sits down to wait as Simon pours the tea and settles down on Ale’s right, eyeing the cheery yellow cake and red berry stains, with light, still warm icing slowly pooling off the bread slice. It smelled amazing, not the astringent disinfectant the kitchen crew uses, not of gunpowder or grease, blood or grime. It smelled warm, sweet, like a home.
Without much grandeur, Simon pulled his mask over his nose, taking half the loaf in one bite, and getting icing down his fingers. The sugary bread melted on his tongue, perfectly zesty and tart with the right amount of moisture. He suppressed the groan that bubbled up in the back of his throat, instead just exhaling deeply as he leaned back to enjoy his mouthful. Ale had produced a napkin for him and one to shield the lower half of his face to take a bite of his creation. Eyes crinkled as he smiled.
”You always bake sweets after a mission?” Simon finally asked after finishing his slice and patiently waiting for Ale to dish him another. Light sips of tea and silence filling the air. The man in question hums from behind his napkin, plating himself another slice after adjusting his mask back on. “It's a… healthier outlet than most options. My therapist recommended it to me a while back.”
”Hm.. I know Price won't mind the extra scran now and then. Whole team has a sweet tooth o’ some sort, few try to hide it.” Ale filed that little note for later, watching Ghost take half the slice into his mouth in one bite, feeling beside himself for seeing this side of the lieutenant. A man his size needs to eat well and Ale always made dessert or large meals to, quite literally, feed an army. The two of them finish half a loaf before Ale put away the remainder of the sweets and washed their dishes, letting Simon relish in the amount of sugar he just inhaled like a mad lad and the incoming food coma. He stood outside the kitchen as Ale cleaned up their area and shut off the lights, pulling his phone out to light their way up the stairs.
“I thought you weren’t due back for ‘nother month? Something happen?” Simon knew he’d be sitting up in Price’s office in the morning, looking over Ale’s report with the man to determine if the Corporal is a good fit for the Task Force. He wanted to hear anything Ale was willing to share in this current moment, seeing the tension pull up his shoulders as Ale let out a deep sigh.
“We were on location for the last facility within the continent for two weeks. Documenting movement, listening in on comms, shit like that.” Ale leaned against his door frame, Simon mirroring him on his own as he listened, watching. The tension in Ale's posture, neutral if just tired expression in his face, and how he just stared unblinkingly at Simon as he talked. The eyeblack stained around his eyes telling him that Ale got back recently, a few hours ago recently. “I was doing my nightly round of observation when the sound of helicopters approached. It wasn't your lot, nor was it theirs. It was Kortac.”
“You worked for Kortac.” Simon stated the obvious, seeing if Ale would divulge anything else before either clamming up or be too tired to think coherently. Ale nodded, stifling a yawn. “Ja, they had been monitoring an illegal arms ring when I left. The facility seemed to be a crossroads of the two.”
“My pilot was told to evacuate and nearly took off without me, fucking slug, and we were told by the command center to go home. Been here for a few hours, needed something to do with my hands after writing the report.” Ale stared, wringing his hands a bit before yawning again. Simon, seeing that this kid stood dead on his feet, pushed himself off the wall with a roll of his shoulders. “I'll see that the Sergeants let ya sleep, get some rest Corporal.”
”Yessir… Danke for trying my baking tonight, Lieutenant. Have a good night.” Ale bowed out, shutting his door to leave Simon with his door half way. He blinked owlishly before simply shutting his door and laid down in his sweats, the sugary bread warming Simon from the inside out and weighing his mind and eyelids down. A good night's sleep is rare for a seasoned soldier of esteemed Ghost’s caliber, but tonight granted him a true and restful sleep.
One of few to come. Or many more?